


Across the Universe

by Chantress



Series: Across the Universe [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: "In General", Alternate Universe, Anakin Doesn't Fail At Flirting Anymore, Anakin Is A Hero In Villain's Clothing, Another Fucking Skywalker, C3PO Fails At Cockblocking, Chewbacca Ships It. All Of It., Crack Taken Seriously, Crack Treated Seriously, Dooku Is Done With This Shit, Elves In Space, Elves do weird shit with the Living Force, Elves do weird shit with the Living Force and Time is just a suggestion really, Everyone's Leiasexual, Everyone's bi, F/M, Force Bongs, Get In The Falcon Losers We're Going To Corellia, Good Cop Kylo Ren, Gratuitous Corellian Brandy, Gratuitous Space Elves, Gratuitous Space Weed, Here Comes The General (Literally), Imperial Prince Kylo, Inappropriate Use Of Smuggling Compartments, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Keeping up with the Skywalkers, Kylo Ren Stares Into Your Soul And Silently Judges You, Leia And Obi-Wan Bond Over Being Smol, Leia Pulls A Merida, Let's do the time warp again, Living Force And Chill, Luke Skywalker: Actual Golden Retriever, M/M, Multi, Never Try To Outdrink Obi-Wan, Never Try To Outsmoke Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan Is So Done With Everything, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Qui-Gon's Fucktrophies, Sassy Gay Elves, Strip Sabacc, The Force Ships Everybody, There's A Reason They're Called Green Jedi, Vader Eventually Gets What He Wants, Vader Is The Kool-Aid Man, everything is poly and nothing hurts, gratuitious corellian smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7938103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/pseuds/Chantress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, a Princess was thoroughly done with everyone's shit.</p>
<p>Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, a smuggler was about to have his day ruined, and he couldn't be happier about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, there once was a princess. She was engaged to a prince, and everyone thought she ought to be delighted, but the prince was spoilt and snobby and the princes cringed whenever he tried to kiss her. So one day, the princess snuck away to a space port and went looking for the rattiest ship she could find to escape on – one that no one would suspect would harbor a princess inside. She knew she didn’t have long until people noticed her absence.

She went through the hangar, examining them one by one, until she had them narrowed down to two. “Where is that one going?” she asked a deckhand.

“That one,” he pointed, “Is going to be sent off for parts tomorrow. The other?” he indicated a Corellian YT freighter. “It says it’s going to Mos Eisley and it has no cargo yet. It’s probably a smuggler’s ship. It runs, but it looks like it ought to be going off for parts too.”

“Thank you,” she said. When the deckhand left, she slipped into the Corellian ship and down into its cargo hold, and waited.

Time passed; she closed her eyes and might have dozed – she was now jerked awake by the sound of boots and heavy footfalls above her head.

“Yeah yeah, Chewie, I know. We got underbid. We’ll get some freight to move at our next stop, okay? I’m hungry too.”

There was a growl of acknowledgment as their footfalls went away, toward the cockpit. The engines rumbled to life and the princess felt the jerk as lightspeed kicked in. Excellent. She took her blaster and holstered it, and reached into her pack for the food she had packed. If they were stopping soon she could probably just sneak out after they landed and no one would ever be the wiser.

Footfalls came closer, and she paused in mid bite. The grate offered her enough breathable air, but not much in the way of a view.

“Chewie, there’s no food on this kriffin’ boat. I don’t care what you smell. Knock it off. You’re making me _hungrier_.”

There was a rumble that sounded like dissent to the princess, and then she heard the sound of sniffing near her head through the grate.

 _Oh, kriff_.

The compartment lid came flying open; the hand that held her up for scrutiny belonged to a wookiee.

“Want some?” instinctively she offered him some of the sliced cheese and meat. There was a hearty growl of approval as he set her down and took the offered food. “You?”

The human man with him was considerably taller than the princess. “We do don’t stowaways,” he took a large bite of the food, and the next part was muffled. “You gotta pay to ride this ship.”

“Technically speaking, you’ve kidnapped me,” she said. “But I can pay, that’s not an issue.”

“Oh, really? And why didn’t you up front?”

Cute, but annoying. “I’m Princess Leia of House Organa. I was about to be married off to a high ranking Imperial cadet who’s also a prince. I hate him. I’m not marrying him, thus, you’re kidnapping me, because you found me.”

“I see,” the human reached into the basket and got his hand slapped by the wookiee. “I’m Han Solo, captain of the Millennium Falcon, and this is my co-pilot, Chewbacca.”

The wookiee waved but didn’t talk with his mouth full.

“Charmed,” Leia said. “So, where are we headed?”

“Back to Alderaan after you pay me. I don’t want any Imperial entanglements. Your fiancé sounds like an Imperial entanglement.”

 _I should entangle you right in your face_ , Leia thought. Aloud she said, “I’ll pay double if you’ll take me with you to Mos Eisley.” She was satisfied to see greed and self-interest flicker across his face.

Chewie made a low groan. He was still hungry, she realized. _Oh. The smugglers weren’t greedy – they were starving._

“I don’t need a pity party, princess.”

“It’s not a pity party, Solo, it’s wages for work. I know it’s dangerous, that’s why I’m willing to pay more.”

His copilot shot him a look and a nod.

“Well, Chewie thinks you’re worth the trouble, so you have a lift to Mos Eisley, Princess. Can you pay up front?”

Leia produced a platinum credit. “Half now, half when we arrive safely and I make contact with my liason.”

Solo took the credit and stared at it a long moment. “It’ll do,” the nonchalant tone was practiced, but his expression didn’t quite match. He handed it to Chewbacca. “Store it till we get to port.”

There was a growl of agreement and then he rubbed Leia’s head.

Payment settled, Leia broke out more of the food and laid it out with her traveling companions.

“You’ve never done anything like this before, have you, Princess?” Solo was watching her look around at the ship. “It’s not gonna be easy, you know.”

“How do you know I don’t do this all the time?”

Han snorted. “You handed me a platinum credit. I suppose that’s the smallest you got? That’s a problem, kid. You need smaller units – it’s gonna mark you as a target for robbery and for spies – and they’ll probably rob you and then turn you into your Imperial boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Leia muttered. “But I couldn’t break anything down without attracting notice.”

“I figured,” he said. “Chewie n’ me will take you to someone we trust to get you some smaller credits. You’ll have to pay an exchange rate, but it’ll be a damn sight cheaper than being robbed, raped, and turned in.”

“Thank you,” she said.

The ship was indeed as fast as its pilot had bragged; soon there were at Tatooine. They touched down at Toshi Station first – there was the matter of credits to be exchanged. Agreements were made that Chewbacca would stay with Leia and the money, and Han would find the lender to exchange credits and negotiate.

While they waited, a young man about her age approached them. He was a little taller than Leia, sandy haired, and blue eyed, with dimples when he smiled – and he was smiling at her.

“Hi,” he said.

Chewbacca growled a warning at him.

“Hey, hey,” he held up his hands, “No offense meant. We just don’t get a lot of new people around here. I just wanted to be friendly. I’m Luke Skywalker.”

Generally, Leia would have agreed with Chewie, but there was something kindly and familiar in his eyes. “We’re going to visit an old friend,” she said. “His name’s Ben.”

“Ben Kenobi? I didn’t know he had any family or friends. He’s a hermit.”

“You know where he is?” Leia hoped she didn’t sound too hopeful. “We lost contact with him and we want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Yeah, I know where he lives. I can take you there.”

Leia and Chewie exchanged looks. “We have to wait till our friend gets back.”

“Sure, sure,” Luke said. He hung back while Leia and Chewie went back with Han to exchange the credits.

They were seated at a table with Han and the moneylender, who was a human with pale eyes and pinched lips. “There will be a customary thirty percent exchange rate for breaking the units down into smaller increments,” the moneylender said.

“Like kriff there will be. Thirty percent is robbery. I’ll take my chances with the Hutts.” Leia stood to leave.

“We can negotiate,” he said. “Twenty seven percent.”

“We’re done,” Leia replied.

Chewbacca growled in agreement.

“Look, Braun, be reasonable,” Han said. “How long have we known each other? Make it fifteen.”

“You still owe me money, Solo.”

“I’ll have soon; I’m on my way to Mos Eisley. Don’t take it out on my friend.”

“Twenty five.”

“Twenty,” Leia said.

“Fine,” Braun spit into his palm and offered it to Leia.

Deal finished, they went back out. Skywalker was still there. “You still wanna meet Ben Kenobi?”

“No,” Han said.

“Yes,” Leia said, and shot him a _she who has the credits sets the agenda look_. “I’d like to take my friends with me.”

“I assumed you were all going,” he said. “Also, there’s someone outside for you. A couple of droids.”

 _Kriff me_. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s an Alderaanian frigate and you have an Alderaanian accent.”

Chewie growled and again, Luke held up his hands. “Look, I’m not gonna tell anyone but you should probably deal with this, okay?”

Han peered around the corner. “It’s just the droids and a little shuttle.” He went up to 3P0, her translator droid. “How did you get here? Who’s with you?” He pointed his blaster at 3P0’s chest.

The golden droid gesticulated in surrender. “No one! R2 was afraid the princess would run away and so he slipped a tracer into her belt.”

“What?” Leia opened each pouch in her belt and finally found the culprit – not an obvious bug, but one of the embellishments on her belt had been swapped out. “Kriff me.”

“If I may, Princess,” 3P0 said, “R2 and I came alone, and only R2 can trace that particular signal. You may return home and no one would be the wiser that you left.”

C3P0 probably hoped she’d take that as a good idea.

“Marvelous,” Han said. “Princess – ”

“Please stop calling me that in public, it’s not helping,” she said. “Low key, please.”

“Sure, _Leia_ ,” he said. “Your shuttle has a long distance hyperdrive – it probably has a tracer. We should sell it. You can get back your twenty percent back and then some.”

Leia wrinkled her nose. “From Braun?”

“From whoever will buy the damn thing.”

“Are we selling the droids too? I know someone who wants a shuttle.” Luke finally spoke up. “Even if you don’t like the offer, it might be better for me to make the transaction, considering people are looking for you, probably both of you by now.”

Chewie growled an agreement, and Leia nodded.

“So,” Luke said, “Are we selling the droids and the shuttle or just the droids?”

“Oh, _my_!” 3P0 moaned.

“No, we’re not selling the droids.”

“Are you sure we can’t throw that one,” Han hitched a thumb at 3P0, “in for free?”

“No.”

As if to prove his worth, C3P0 launched into his introductory spiel. “I am C3P0, human-cyborg relations, I am fluent in over six million forms…”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we meet Obi-Wan and discover his penchant for Corellian brandy.

To Leia’s relief, Luke’s buyer was discreet and paid well. She gave Han and Chewie some of the extra credits and tried to give some to Luke, who wouldn’t take them. “I need to give you something for all of this. You don’t even know me.”

“I’d like to, though.”

Leia blinked. “I just ran away from my fiancé.”

“Joining the Rebellion?” Luke had the hint of a smile on his face. “Old Ben knows people. It’s the only reason anyone seeks him out.”

_Then why haven’t you joined?_ She pressed her blaster to his side. “Any Imperial sympathies then?”

“If I did, I’d turn him in. It’s not like there’s not a reward out.”

Satisfied, she nodded. “Take us to him, then.”

Luke turned toward his speeder.

“Nuh uh, kid. We’re going in the Falcon. We might need to make a hasty departure.”

Skywalker shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

 

Obi-Wan’s place was out in the middle of nowhere, and Leia was suddenly glad that Han had the foresight to take his ship. The former (?) Jedi was standing outside his house when they arrived, as if he knew they were coming. Leia had only seen pictures of him in his youth; now he had silver, wispy hair and his tidy beard was grey. His eyes, however, retained their piercing gaze.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of so much company?” he turned to Luke first. “Young Skywalker? I thought your Uncle forbade you to come out here.”

Luke shrugged. “These people needed to see you, so I helped them.”

“I’m just transport,” Han said. “Chewie here is my co pilot.”

“Of course you are,” Obi-Wan said, and finally his gaze rested on Leia.

_Showtime_. Convince him to take you to the Rebellion. “General Kenobi: years ago, you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now the Empire has my homeworld under its boot and it will crush us. I want to join the Rebellion. Please, please, take me to them.”

Kenobi didn’t speak immediately, he just regarded her with solemn eyes, stroking his beard. “If I do this, there is no going back to the Empire, Princess. You’d be executed for treason.”

“I know.”

“Do you? They are relentless.”

“Please. I must do this.”

Kenobi nodded. “Very well. I will require transport – I don’t have a ship anymore. Gave mine up years ago. Perhaps your friend can provide it?” he gestured to Han.

“Does it pay?”

“I will make arrangements.”

“You don’t even know my going rates?”

Kenobi looked him over again. “I’d say my partner’s rates will be sufficient for you and your copilot.” He turned toward Luke. “Well, young Skywalker, back to the farm with you?”

Luke looked around. “No. I’m going with you.”

Han scoffed. “Why don’t we see just how many people we can fit into the Falcon? Chewie, clean out the extra smuggling compartments, we’re gonna be up to our eyeballs in contraband.”

Chewbacca rumbled out a laugh.

“There is the matter of the droids.” Obi-Wan said.

Han made an exasperated sound. “Fine, they can come too.”

 

The Falcon was packed and prepared for departure. Obi-Wan had given a fictitious destination so hopefully no one would track them. The Tatooine sky was dark and dotted with stars by the time they took off. The ship was full and people bunked down in odd spots where ever they could make pillows and blankets fit.

Han paced through the ship, checking out his crew, cargo, and passengers, and came to a stop in the galley.

Obi-Wan was drinking.

“That’s my Corellian ale.”

Kenobi took a swig. “So it is.”

“That’s my ale.”

“It’s good.” Kenobi reached for another glass and poured him one.

Han sat, incredulous. “I expect to be compensated for my ale.” He took a long draught.

“But of course.”

They clinked glasses.

“Yanno, if we’re toasting, I have Corellian brandy, and it’s even better than this.”

Kenobi arched a brow. “Oh?”

Han pulled out the cask and opened it. “Best stuff you can get on the market.”

“Legal?”

Han scoffed.

 

Across the ship, Leia’s eyes snapped open. Luke was sleeping across from her, or rather had been – he too, was looking toward the disturbance.

_“Oh don't give me none more of that Old Janx Spirit_  
No, don't you give me none more of that Old Janx Spirit  
For my head will fly, my tongue will lie, my eyes will fry and I may die  
Won't you pour me one more of that sinful Old Janx Spiiiiiirrrrriiiiiiit”

 

“They’re drunk,” Luke said.

“Ya think?”

He made a face. “What do we do with them?”

“Do you think they’ll be sober enough to land?”

“I’m a pilot,” Luke said. “If Chewie’s sober, I’m sure I could get her down.”

“Good, I’d like us to land in one piece.”

Han tilted his head at Obi-Wan. “Are you trying to trick me?”

“Do you think that I think you foolish enough to trick?”

“Yes. But no. I mean I’m not. But you are.”

“You’re not landing the ship? That’s quite sensible. I think young Luke will be a worthy substitute,” Obi-Wan said, all diplomacy.

 “Chewie can show me the controls so I get more familiar with them.” Luke beamed like an over exuberant puppy.

“Not a scratch on this ship, or I’ll let Chewie pull your arms out of their sockets.”

“Now, now, no need to threaten,” Obi-Wan said. “He’s an excellent pilot. He takes after his father.”

“Wait, you knew my father?”

The faint smile disappeared from Obi-Wan’s face. “Yes, I knew him. Anakin was a fellow Jedi, and a good friend.” Kenobi leaned down and pulled out a small footlocker, opened it, and produced an antique weapon – a lightsaber – Leia and Luke gasped in unison.

“Anakin was a cunning warrior, and the best starpilot we had. I am not surprised that young Luke takes after him in talent.”

He offered Luke the lightsaber. He ignited it, testing the weight. “It’s amazing. Do you want to try it?” he shut it off and offered it to Leia.

“Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side.” Han was not impressed.

Leia ignited the blade and its hum went straight through her. The room around her flickered, and she was out amidst Tatooine’s sands, and the saber in her hand was green, not blue, and she was deflecting blows from a red-eyed warrior.

_Rah tah mah…_

Luke’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to herself. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said. “I think you’d better handle this. It was your father’s after all.”

Han thrust a brandy into her hand. “You look like you need it.” He guided her into the seat beside his.

Luke turned the lightsaber back on, curious. “So my father was a Jedi and not a freight pilot. What happened to him, really?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “Another pupil of mine, Darth Vader, turned to the Dark Side. He betrayed and murdered your father.”

Luke’s face fell. Not only did he never know his father, he didn’t know his father had been murdered.

“I’d pour you a brandy, kid, but you’re landing the ship.” Han looked up as if he’d just realized that they were there. The blurred lines of hyperspace turned back into dots. “But why are we in Corellia? Nothing good is in Corellia – it’s all hippies, shipyards, and vineyards.”

Obi-Wan waved a hand. “It will be fine, remain calm.”

“It might be nice,” Luke said.

“Hey, I didn’t contradict you when you talked about how shitty the planet you’re from is,” Han said.

“Wait, you’re from Corellia?”

“Yep,” Han sounded miserable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Han is surrounded by Corellian hippies and Leia decides to play a little sabaac.

Obi-Wan gave Luke landing coordinates, and they touched down in front of temple. It was nestled in a valley surrounded by vineyards. Two men were on the landing platform, attired similarly to Obi-Wan, save for the fact that their robes were varying shades of green and gold.

“Hippies,” Han muttered. “We got the hippies.”

Leia’s eyes skimmed the assembled – one had brown hair that fell in waves to his shoulders. His blue eyes were serene and thoughtful. Then her gaze went to the second – his hair was salt and pepper, and part of it was pulled back in a thong style ponytail, and the rest was long and straight. He embraced Obi-Wan like a long-lost son – or perhaps a lover. “Welcome home. What strays have you brought me?”

Obi-Wan let go of him just enough to point, “Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Chewbacca, and Han Solo, a local native.”

Han pulled a face at the mention of him being a native.

“Everyone, meet Qui-Gon Jinn,” he indicated the man who still had an arm around his shoulders, “And Gwier, the Grand Master of this Temple.”

Han mouthed the word “hippies” again.

They were led into the Temple, where they were given rooms for the night and shown hospitality. Leia noticed that Han’s demeanor improved after the food and brandy came out.

“He eats fast, doesn’t he?” Luke whispered to her.

“He does.” And Leia bet that was because food was apt to be taken from at some point in his life. Given how much he appeared to dislike Corellia, it probably happened here. Was his family poor? Did he even have family? He hadn’t mentioned visiting them.

After dinner, they retired to a study and Obi-Wan sat next to Qui-Gon, holding each others’ hands.

“I didn’t know you had a husband,” Luke said.

“He is my bondmate,” Obi-Wan said. “I had a wife once too, but she died.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke said.

“My children live on Alameen. I am not allowed to see them.”

“Why?”

“Alameen is a world full of Force sensitives who don’t like offworlders, and I am an offworlder.”

“And you would have been an offworlder king,” Qui-Gon said.

“Wow.”

“That is one way to put it, young Skywalker.” Obi-Wan looked back at Qui-Gon. “But the Force gives us solace in the bonds we form with one another.”

Leia looked around and noticed that Han had slipped away. She found him outside – the Temple had an ample deck and swinging chairs big enough for two or three humans to fit inside. He had an ale in hand, and was twirling in the swing. _He’s like an enormous kid sometimes,_ she thought, smiling. “Can I join you?”

“Sure, your Highness.” The swing stopped in mid-twirl, his boot dragging against the wood of the deck. “Have a seat.”

She settled in beside him. “You’re from here, right? Did you grow up near here?”

Han grimaced. “Yeah, I’m from here. Not from anywhere in particular.”

“Hm?”

He shrugged. “I just mean I don’t have anywhere special here.”

“How long did you live here?”

“Till I joined a pirate’s crew. Did that for a while and then went into the Imperial Academy. That’s where I met Chewie.”

Too curious not to ask, Leia said, “So why did you join the pirate crew?”

“Better than living on the streets.” He took a swig of ale. “Never knew my parents.”

Oh. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Not your fault,” he waved it away. “Wouldna met any pretty princesses if I had stayed in Coronet City.”

Leia raised her own glass in salute. “Wouldn’t have met any pirates if you’d stayed in Coronet City.” They clinked their in a toast, and sat together a moment in a companionable silence. “How long are you going to stay?”

“Till Chewie and I get another job worked out.”

“You know, the Rebellion could use a good pilot.”

“You know, the Rebellion probably can’t pay jack.”

“I can finance,” she began.

“No, princess, you have no idea what it really costs to run a ship or a military type outfit. It’s nice of you to offer but you can’t afford me.”

“Oh really?” Leia raised a brow. “I bet you I can.”

Now it was Han’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t fancy you the gambling type, sweetheart. What kind of stakes are we talking?”

Leia considered a moment. “Let’s make it interesting. I saw a sabacc table back in the common area. If you win, you get to decide what you want to be paid the first month. If I win, I get to decide how much you get paid. And you take an item of clothing off.”

Han paused, a grin starting to form on his face. “Are we playing strip sabacc to get me to join the Rebellion?”

“We are.”

“Then you have to remove clothing too.”

“I know.”

He smirked. “Never could refuse a lady.”

“Good,” Leia said. “Race you to the table?”

“Gotta get my kit,” he said. “After all, we’re on Corellian – might as well play it Corellian Spike style.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Han and Leia play strip sabaac, and Qui-Gon decides to raise the stakes.

Back in the common room, Han set up the game, and Leia produced a platinum credit.

“I thought we cut all of those down into more useable units?”

“It’s useable. It’s your first month’s pay if you win.”

Han shook his head. “I hate to take that much from a lady at one time.”

“I thought we were playing for a month each round. Besides, it’s only a problem if you beat me.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said.

The first hand began. Leia surveyed her cards – the point of sabacc was not just to have a good hand but to know when to play it, because if she waited too long, she could lose all of her hand. This was made more interesting by the addition of dice – Han had a pair of golden, six-sided die that they rolled on their respective turns. A good roll added to your cards and a poor one wiped them out. And each roll upped the sabacc pot. She watched, and waited, and finally laid out her hand.

Han made a slight tsk. “You win, princess.” He took off his jacket. “So what do I get my first month?”

Leia held up the platinum credit. “We’re still playing for this. Now it’s two month’s pay instead of just one. Fair?”

“Fair enough.”

It was a generous offer, and fair for both of them, she reckoned. The second hand, Han won, and Leia removed her vest.

Another hand, Leia won, and Han had to take off his shirt. Well, Leia thought wryly, he probably didn’t have to, but she wasn’t complaining. He was cocky, full of bravado, and a little bit amoral, but he was easy on the eyes. Another round, and again, she won.

Han had one boot on and one boot off when Qui-Gon came in, holding a pipe with a smoldering herb in it. He took a puff, shrugged his shoulders, and sat down beside them. “Deal me in.”

“Isn’t it against the rules for Jedi to have fun?” Han asked.

“I’m not one much for rules.”

“Yanno, if you play you have to join the Rebellion.”

Again, Qui-Gon took a puff, passed the pipe to Leia, and said, “Deal me in.”

She took a puff, coughed, spluttered, and Han offered her a drink. The ale was soothing and cold, and she handed the pipe to Han, who took his own puff without spluttering, of course.

Qui-Gon won his first hand. Dutifully, she and Han both pulled off a shoe. Several hands later, Han was mostly undressed and Leia partially, whilst Qui-Gon had removed a belt. And Jedi wore several of them.

“You’re cheating,” Han said. “That’s not fair.”

Fortunately, Master Gweir chose that moment to appear, rescuing the situation before it could escalate any further.

"I wish I could say I'm surprised at you, Qui-Gon," he said, "but I've known you too long for that."

Qui-Gon looked unrepentant. "And a very good evening to you too, Gweir. We've just been having a friendly game of sabacc, that's all."

Gweir raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I can see what you've been doing," he drawled, with a pointed glance at the pipe in Qui-Gon's hand and the piles of clothing next to Han and Leia. "Couldn't wait even a day to fleece the Temple's guests, could you?"

Qui-Gon drew himself up with all the dignity he could muster, considering the look the other Master was leveling at him. "You don't have to worry about that; we weren't playing for money."

"Speak for yourself," Han said. "I believe we had an agreement in that regard, Princess?"

"Considering we both seem to have lost, I suggest we renegotiate. Later, though. When we're all a little more... dressed." Leia frowned at the haphazard mess of clothes lying next to her chair; for some reason, she couldn't quite remember how to put it all back on.

Gweir laughed, though not unkindly. "Here, let me help." He bent and retrieved her garments, handing them to her one at a time and politely averting his gaze as she fumbled her way into them.

"First time sampling the local pipeweed, I take it?" Gweir said. "It can hit a little hard when you're not used to it. Even when you are used to it, for that matter." There was a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes as he knelt to assist Leia with her shoes. "Has Master Jinn told you about his famous naked katas yet?"

Qui-Gon grimaced. "Gweir, I don't think she wants to hear about--"

"Naked katas?" Leia interrupted, intrigued. She glanced over at the tall Master; he hadn't seemed very interested in projecting the famous facade of Jedi serenity before this, but now he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Gweir's words had also served to remind her that Qui-Gon was the only one who hadn't removed anything of import during their little game, and Leia found herself wondering what he looked like under all those robes and tunics. Only out of a sense of academic curiosity, of course. She hadn't had much opportunity to admire shirtless men before now, after all, so she couldn't be sure what she liked in that department until she had a basis for comparison. Although even without extensive experience, she had to admit that Han was rather... well-built.

She shook her head to clear it and turned away from the smuggler, who was currently swearing under his breath as he struggled back into his shirt. That was a thought that merited examination when she was more herself, she decided, marking it down to the influence of the pipeweed with a mental shrug.

Fortunately, Gweir didn't seem to have noticed her momentary lapse of attention--or if he had, he was too polite to mention it. "Naked katas," he confirmed, lips twitching in amusement. "It would seem that the esteemed Master Jinn had become a bit too intimately acquainted with the pleasures of Corellia's finest one evening, and found himself in need of a late-night snack, as one does. While he was making his way to the kitchens, it apparently occurred to him that he had suddenly and miraculously been gifted by the Force with the ability to become invisible at will, and he thus proceeded to shed all of his clothing 'long the way, as it was the only thing currently rendering him detectable to the eyes of others.

"When he reached the kitchens, he was greeted by the stares of no less than a dozen Temple residents who were on cooking rotation that week, up early to begin baking the day's bread. And so Master Jinn, confident that this was only a momentary hiccup in his newly-discovered abilities, assured them all, with an overenthusiastic wave of his hands, that they couldn't actually see him, and proceeded to raid the pantry--completely nude, and with occasional reminders to his dumbfounded audience that he was still invisible.

"Said reminders became more and more and more emphatic the longer he was there, until finally it looked like he was trying to do some sort of kata in his efforts to convince everyone. So, if you can imagine Master Jinn naked, with a piece of cheese stuffed in his mouth, balancing on one foot and waving a carrot at you like a lightsaber..." Gweir demonstrated, barely-repressed laughter twinkling in his eyes as he deepened his voice slightly in obvious imitation of the other Master: "Yoooooou caaaan't seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee meeeeeeeeee..."

If Leia hadn't been sitting down already, she would have fallen on the floor from the force of her laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Qui-Gon takes his ducklings on a hike of Corellia's green hills.

The next morning, all had recovered for the most part, and Han found Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan sitting together, talking quietly. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No,” the elder Jedi replied. “Do come have a seat.”

“So, this pipeweed, this is strong stuff – where did you get it? We could fund your rebellion selling it, you know.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “I could tell you, but it might be easier to show you. Are you up for a short hike?”

Obi-Wan made a face. “You’re not really going to drag him there, are you?”

“No, I’m going to drag both of you.”

Obi-Wan snorted, and then shrugged his shoulders. “I have long since learned not to try to dissuade you from your fancies. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Han asked.

“You’ll see.”

The hike from the temple was short, and wound its way to a mount at the foot of the valley. The mound was covered in bright greenery, and there was naught to be seen in terms of civilization, or even farming – just a hill. Han was perplexed.

Qui-Gon tapped on a rock, and there was a rumble. Slowly, a door swung open, though Han couldn’t see hinges or any other conventional method of opening. And then it dawned on Han was he was seeing. “You don’t seriously mean the stories about the elves living in the hills are…”

Again, Qui-Gon chuckled. “I’m afraid so. Come in, they’re very hospitable.”

Han scanned the area – inside it was misty-looking, and he couldn’t discern an exit other than the one that he was walking into, and he didn’t like single exit establishments, generally speaking.

“I found this place a number of years ago,” Qui-Gon said. “I was looking for my old master, Count Dooku, who had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Eventually my search led me here – tired, frustrated, and believing that I’d come to another dead end, I sat down in front of that door and knocked my head against the rock – and fell inside.”

Han stepped in, and the scent of pipeweed hit him. It was clearly the same strain that Qui-Gon had brought to the sabacc table. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he realized that armed guards were watching them. “Look, I don’t want any sorta trouble, I’ll just be on my way…”

Qui-Gon gave him a nudge forward – he didn’t use his hands at all – it didn’t seem fair to him that Jedi could do that – and the guards let him past. Obi-Wan brought up the rear, and they were escorted into a much brighter, cheery room, lined with books. Tables and leather chairs and love seats dotted the room, and there were windows that Han swore he hadn’t seen in the side of the hill before. “Huh,” he said. “Elves like to read.”

“They like to do many things,” a cultured voice, with a posh Coruscanti accent replied. “Qui-Gon Jinn, I see you’ve brought me visitors.”

“Master,” Qui-Gon hugged the silver-haired and bearded gentleman. “Han Solo, this is Idis Dooku, Count of Serreno, and my former Jedi Master.”

“Have you adopted another duckling, Qui-Gon?”

“Perhaps.”

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the guards’ armor clanking as they bowed, and then Han saw why: a dark-haired man, dressed in ceremonial black robes and wearing a garland entered the room. Awkwardly, it occurred to Han that he probably ought to bow, too, because everyone was but the Count.

“Please allow me to introduce my bondmate, Anaar Sev Ren, King of the Green Hills.”

“Call me Sev,” he said.

“I could see why a fella would get out of Jedi-ing for a king.” Han realized, too late, that this was his out-loud voice. All the damn pipeweed smoke was already getting to him. Fortunately it appeared that Sev had a sense of humor – all he did was laugh.

A servant brought out a tray of tea and cakes – _why did Qui-Gon bring me to this classy joint and these clearly upper caste people?_ Han took a cup and decided to watch Obi-Wan for social cues on when to eat or drink. The elder Jedi caught on to this quickly and winked at him.

“So, Obi-Wan,” Elf King Sev put down his cup. “When are you going to let us do a little magic on your physical body?”

“With all respect your Grace, I am not sure I would want to be younger again.”

“Oh come now, you’d have the liver of a young man, too.”

“Very funny.”

“And youthful vigor would be useful in training Skywalkers.”

“I am only taking one. One Skywalker is enough.”

Han felt his eyebrows shoot up. “That means there’s more than one Skywalker? Besides Luke, who?”

The room got quiet.

“Oh no, not me. I ain’t a Skywalker or a Skyrunner or anything.”

“Solo is an orphan’s name here, is it not?” Dooku asked.

“Yeah.”

“So you could be from a prominent family.”

“Yeah but why…” Han paused as it hit him: Luke and Leia had both mentioned their ages in passing, and they were the same. “Oh. Leia!”

“One needn’t be from a prominent family to be Force sensitive either,” Qui-Gon said, looking at him meaningfully.

“Hey, yeah, look, I don’t get into any of that Force stuff, okay? I mean, no offense.”

“None taken,” Qui-Gon waited until he turned away and then threw a book at Han, which he caught. “Wouldn’t you like to know how I won at sabaac last night?”

Servants brought in an enormous, hollowed-out gourd, and the king proceeded to pack it with pipeweed. It was then passed around the room. Han was already feeling light-headed, so he figured if he couldn’t beat them, he’d join them. “I can cheat at cards too, yanno. I just wasn’t last night.”

“I’m sure,” Qui-Gon said amiably. “Tell me, do you play and often win?”

“Yeah, usually.” Han passed the pipe over to Obi-Wan, who passed it back to King Sev.

“You seem to have an abundance of good luck,” Qui-Gon said. “Don’t you ever find it curious?”

“Nah. I’m just lucky.”

“In my experience, there’s no such thing as luck.”

“Yeah?” Han said. “If that’s so, why haven’t you let your friends put you in a younger body? They keep offering, right? If you believe in a Force that wants you to do things, maybe it wants you to do that, or it wouldn’t keep asking. Just sayin,’ yanno.”

Qui-Gon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a bark of laughter disguised as a cough.

At that point, everyone in the room was looking at Obi-Wan, who sighed. “Very well, I will allow it.”

“Pretend you have a choice,” Sev said as he and Dooku led Obi-Wan out of the room.

And then Han and Qui-Gon were alone. “So,” he said. “Let’s talk about gambling. Would you like to learn what I did last night?”

“Yes.”

 

After spending some quality time with Qui-Gon, Han had lost and suspected that every time the dice rolled, that the Jedi was altering them somehow. It seemed to involve handwaving, and so on the next round, he waved his hand to roll the dice in his favor, and to his surprise, it worked.

“You seem surprised,” Qui-Gon was amused.

“Look, I don’t really believe in the Force,” Han said.

“Then how do you explain this?” Qui-Gon motioned to the dice.

Han shrugs. “Luck.”

“In my experience there’s no such thing as luck,” Obi-Wan’s voice drew both men up short.

“Karking hell,” Han said. “They weren’t kidding about making him young again.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is introspection, fallout from the inherent strangeness of elven magic, and Stupid Sexy Kenobi.

Leia spent the better part of the morning sitting in the swing she and Han had shared the night before, idly toeing at the boards of the deck every once in a while when she noticed the swing's motion had stopped. Luke had tried to cajole her into joining him and the gaggle of Temple residents about their age in some game that seemed to involve a ball and a lot of yelling, but she had declined, claiming she was still tired from the journey.  
  
A particularly loud whoop that could only be Luke's sounded from the field where the game was being held, followed by a scattering of laughter and cheers from the others. Leia smiled to herself; they hadn't even been at the Temple an entire day yet, and he had already made friends with half the people there.  
  
In truth, though, it wasn't tiredness that caused her need for solitude. It was that she couldn't quite believe that this-- _any_ of this--was real.  
  
She had gotten away. After so many months of planning and fretting and secrecy, she had made her escape, with no greater complication than her droids deciding to follow her.  
  
And yet a part of her was convinced that it couldn't have been that easy. That she would turn around in a minute, and _he_ would be there to drag her back to Alderaan for another endless round of wedding preparation, and then she would never do anything ever again except bear his children, entertain his guests, and keep smothering the fires inside of her that demanded _more_ from her life.  
  
Before her engagement, she'd had ambitions of following in her father's footsteps and serving in the Imperial Senate, but her fiance had insisted that a career in politics was unsuited to "a lady of gentle breeding" such as herself. Whatever the kriff _that_ was supposed to mean. Leia assumed he meant well by it--well, probably--but no matter how much benefit of the doubt she allowed him, the phrase always sounded more than a little insulting.  
  
Now that she had the opportunity to make her own decisions again, though, she found herself at a loss. All her energy had been so focused on getting _away_ , getting to the Rebellion, for so long, that she had no idea what she was going to do now that she was here. What use would they even have for her, anyway? Granted, she was well-educated in a wide variety of subjects, and a decent shot with a blaster besides, but would that be enough to ensure she had a place among them?  
  
Leia's musings were interrupted by the return of Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Han. The two Jedi were still out of sight inside the Temple, but she could hear them having what sounded like a lovers' spat.  
  
("It's a good look for you," Qui-Gon was insisting. "Much more... vibrant."  
  
"The whole point of getting old is that people finally start taking you seriously," Obi-Wan groused. "But now? No one will believe I'm a Knight, let alone a Master. _Look_ at me, Qui-Gon!"  
  
"Oh, I'm definitely looking.")  
  
Han, however, made a beeline out the door onto the deck, marched over to Leia, and pointed an accusing finger at her.  
  
"However much you were planning on paying me to join you on this little adventure, it's not gonna be enough."  
  
"Excuse me?" Leia batted his hand away from her face, wrinkling her nose. He smelled like he'd been _marinated_ in that weed she'd tried last night.  
  
"You heard me just fine, princess. I expect hazard-duty rates if I'm gonna have to deal with this shit."  
  
With that, he stalked off in the direction of the ball-field, muttering something unflattering about "damn cryptic space elves" and "kriffin' ginger Jedi."  
  
Leia shook her head after him. If Han wasn't going to provide her with a reason for his sudden moodiness, she wasn't about to chase him down and demand one. Especially since he seemed to have smoked enough pipeweed to knock half the Temple on their asses. Explanations could wait until he'd sobered up.  
  
Then, the two Jedi stepped out onto the deck, and the explanation was staring her right in the face. Literally.  
  
Qui-Gon looked the same as he had when the three of them had left that morning, albeit slightly more smug. Obi-Wan, however...  
  
_Oh my_. Leia could feel her face heating up as he met her gaze.  
  
"A little different, isn't it?" he said.  
  
She nodded numbly.  
  
When Leia was ten, her father had taken it upon himself to instruct her in certain subjects her regular tutors had neglected, likely out of fear of being executed for treason. These history lessons had been eyeopening; on one particularly memorable occasion, Bail Organa had shown her a selection of old holonews reels from the Clone Wars, pausing from time to time to compare and contrast the footage with more contemporary Imperial propaganda and discuss their similarities, differences, and overall efficacy in promoting their respective agendas.  
  
The purpose of the exercise had been to develop her critical thinking skills, but there had been an unintended side-effect, as well: From that day forward, Leia harbored a deep and abiding obsession with one General Kenobi.  
  
She had been too young at first for it to be called a crush; Obi-Wan had simply become her imaginary confidant and secret companion in her games of make-believe, where they were best friends and Jedi and took turns rescuing each other from deadly peril, saving the Galaxy along the way.  
  
As she grew older, however, these daydreams took on a decidedly more romantic bent, although the daring rescues and undercover missions were still a large part of them; one simply couldn't sit around necking with one's boyfriend when there were gundarks to be fought, after all. Still, Obi-Wan Kenobi had been the first person she'd imagined kissing, the first person she'd imagined sleeping with, and the only person she'd wanted to do either one with--at least until she turned fifteen, when she started spending more time with boys her own age and consequently grew out of her infatuation.  
  
Or _thought_ she'd grown out of it. Leia swallowed hard, suddenly hoping that the legendary Jedi's powers did not extend to him being able to read minds.

***

"I tell you, Chewie, whoever decided to start calling them the 'Good Folk' had either never met any of 'em or was being sarcastic."  
  
Chewbacca made a noncommittal noise, not looking up from where he was tinkering with one of the Falcon's hyperdrive components. He was used to these moods of Han's; whatever was on his mind would come out eventually, and it was no use trying to make him get to the point of his ramblings before he was good and ready to.  
  
"Not that they're _bad_ folk," Han added. "Or, not really. I mean, you can't really call them good OR bad, y'know? They just... are."  
  
Chewbacca kept himself from rolling his eyes, but only barely. He could still smell the remnants of pipeweed smoke that clung to his friend like a second skin, and could only assume this had something to do with Han's ramblings.  
  
_So what happened?_ he said. _Did they threaten to execute you for not drinking your tea with your pinkie up?_  
  
Han let out a snort of laughter. "Nah, I lucked out on that one. Although the king's husband kinda looked like he wanted to." He sobered at that, running a hand through his hair in a gesture Chewbacca recognized. Whatever he said next would be the important part, then.  
  
"The king..." Han swallowed. "He said he knew my son."  
  
_Your_ son _? I would have hoped I'd taught you better birth control practices than that, cub._  
  
"No! I mean, well, yes--I'm always careful. But it's not like that." Han wrapped his arms around his knees, looking more lost than Chewbacca had seen him in years.  
  
"Time moves differently there somehow," he said, staring off into the distance. "Like none of the rules we take for granted about it even apply. And someday, apparently, I'm gonna have a son."  
  
_You say that like it's a bad thing._  
  
Han raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I dunno. I think mostly it's the idea of a kid of mine being important enough to catch the attention of royalty. Even if it's royalty that smokes up as often as King Sev does."  
  
Chewbacca nudged him. _Maybe that's how they meet: Your son takes after you, and decides to seek out the best weed in the Galaxy, and the two of them bond over a bowl or five._  
  
Han smiled at that, but the haunted look didn't leave his eyes.  
  
"That's not what bothers me the most, though," he said at last. "I think... I think it's the idea of having a son at all."  
  
_You always said you wanted a family someday_ , Chewbacca pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, _someday_. But there's a difference between wanting something, and knowing it's inevitable that you're gonna get it, y'know?"  
  
This time, Chewbacca didn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. _The number of ways you contrive to talk yourself out of your own happiness never ceases to amaze me, cub._  
  
"Hey, fuck you too," Han said, but there was affection in his voice. "It's just... this is no life to bring a kid into. Even leaving aside getting shot at when a deal goes bad, and having Imps up our ass on a regular basis, I can't afford to feed _myself_ half the time. And adding a kid into the mix..." He swallowed. "No. I lived through that myself. I'm not gonna make my son go through it, too."  
  
_What about the Rebellion?_  
  
"Same song, different verse. They're hurting for money too; you think they're gonna give a bantha's left nut whether I get paid or not, so long as they get the supplies they need?"  
  
_The small princess has offered to compensate you for your time, you know._  
  
"Well, maybe the 'small princess' is too idealistic for her own good," Han snapped. "And she can't afford to bankroll our operation indefinitely. Sooner or later, those credits she snitched from Daddy when she took off are gonna run out. And the way she's been throwing them around, I'm betting on sooner."  
  
Chewbacca didn't offer any overt reaction to this outburst, but he did allow himself an inward smile, turning back to his repair work as Han continued to rant about headstrong princesses, money troubles, and (for whatever reason) unexpectedly attractive Jedi. He had known the cub for quite some time now, and Han only reacted with this much prickliness when he truly cared for someone.  
  
On the matter of eventual small Solos, Chewbacca would definitely be betting on "sooner" himself.


End file.
